


Imps of the Game

by Archangel_Beth



Category: In Nomine
Genre: Gen, Habbalite with custody of little imps, Little Gamester Imps, Semi-graphic depiction of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Beth/pseuds/Archangel_Beth
Summary: A couple of fics done for a friend's character.
Kudos: 2





	Imps of the Game

_If you are reading this on an app with in-app purchases or subscriptions, know that this story is available at https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_Beth , and Archive Of Our Own ("AO3") permits epub downloads; I like the Marvin app for iOS; small one-time fee, and lovely by-author sorting. If you have paid money for this story, you have been cheated._

* * *

**Another Day in Hades**

Tiphariel, Habbalite of the Game, walked through her classroom and tapped the birchwood switch against the desks. Two of her little imps flinched as they played chess, and one knocked over its rook. She lashed its hand for the clumsiness, but tolerantly let it replace the piece on the board. It was silent enough. She would not have to impose suitable regret for the failing.

She supervised the scribing one of them was doing, cleaning up her own report notes into something suitable to turn in. A tap on the door distracted her, and she snarled, "Enter."

It was an Impudite, crisp in gray slacks and a gray vest with a pawn's insignia stitched in red, and a matching crimson shirt. Tiphariel sneered, and idly reached out to slash the birch switch across the back of one of her older students. It would not do to let any of them dream of being demons, when she had chosen them to walk the path of knives that would redeem them from the gutters, and let them be angels like herself. To yearn for leathern wings was foolish. Coldly, Tiphariel said, "Is this business?"

The Taker bowed. "Ma'am, it is. The Prince has a play in mind, and I am to report on the available demonlings and their abilities and aptitudes."

"Some of these are advanced enough in their study of Earth to support Roles, if the Roles are young enough," Tiphariel allowed. "I have individual folders in my office. This way."

As the two fledged celestials left the room, closing the thick door behind them, the demonlings behind whispered. The youngest, chained to their desks, looked yearningly at the unlocked door the Impudite had entered from.

The back-scarred one she'd last hurt was silent, seeming lost in study of a language book. But his hands were clenched into little fists, and his ears heard two of his fellows whispering of the possibilities of a young vessel and all the freedom of Earth to walk through. All the chances they might have. All the ways that they could slip through the cracks.

He tilted his head back, and whispered, "I want in."

Three little imps smiled sharpened smiles. Three little imps nodded. Three little imps, when their teacher and inspector came back, volunteered readily for Earth duties.

And if any one of them were true in their bargain and secret rebellion... None of them could know for sure.

You place your bet. You take your chances. Gambling is part of the Game.

* * *

**Boarding School for Hadean Imps**

"You still in, Sander?"

Shihon looked up from the idiot-simple ciphering he was supposed to be barely passing. "Are you an idiot? Of course."

Henry, who was much better at barely-passing ciphering, and any other class they cared to mention, smirked. "Just wanted to check. We go tonight."

"Tonight?" He snorted. "What conies you are. If we go, it should be at lunch, when they will think 'tis just us missing classes to get into town."

"If we go at lunch, the humans will come after us, too."

"If we go at night, our keeper will suspect. At lunch, there will be other boys trying to hide out, too. And less chance for Charles to tell anyone the wrong thing. This 'go at night' plan _was_ his, was it not?"

Henry looked uncertain, then frowned in resolution. "You are right. We should go sooner, lest any of us lose our nerve."

Shihon turned his head back to his work, shifting the page so the last of the moonlight illuminated it. It made his writing more crude when he worked at night, so he preferred it, but burning any lamps would make it more obvious that three of the boys in the school never slept.

*

Getting loose, at lunch, was actually easy. Slip out of line around _that_ corner. Slide out past _that_ bunch. Take _this_ hall, and _that_ door, and then up a tree and over a wall. They landed, one-two-three, and dusted bark off their hose and doublets.

"We must steal something coarser," Charles muttered.

"Or scraps, and some needlewoman's tools," Shihon suggested, adjusting the sleeves on his coat. It was chill enough, still, that no one would remark on a skinny boy huddling in a slightly over-sized coat.

Henry cast a look over his shoulder. "We'd better go before we're missed."

"Yes," Shihon agreed, and set off down the road.

They'd made it all the way into town, and nearly all the way out the other side, when the carriage came clattering past. The other two didn't look up, but Shihon did, till they yanked at his shoulders.

"It wasn't his horse," he hissed at them.

"You want someone to _remember_ us?" Charles demanded.

"Conies," Shihon muttered.

"Till we fledge," Henry breathed, his eyes shining for a moment at the thought.

"If we are deemed worthy by God," Charles corrected. "We will cast off our demon origins and be true angels. What we do now will prove our worth and strength."

Shihon tucked his hands in his coat sleeves, and was silent as he walked between them. Both Charles and Henry had harder, stronger fists than he did. He didn't argue their theology.

*

At dusk, with the light failing around them, a horse stepped onto the road. All three of them looked up, into the stern, frowning face of their minder's vessel.

Before they could scatter, though, there was cold steel at the throats of Charles and Henry -- and Shihon's hands were no longer in his coat sleeves.

"Master Robert. I believe you will want these two?"

"Sander," Charles hissed. "You traitor."

Shihon pressed the knife a little more against his fellow imp's neck. Mildly, he said, "Traitor to whom, Chasial?"

"That will do." Master Robert, their keeper, made a gesture. Two young women stepped from the carriage that was hidden by dusk and bushes. They were prim and proper in their stomachers and gowns -- and out of place alongside the road.

Henry panicked, as the two women approached, and started to turn. Shihon's blade slid along his neck, and then he turned it sharply, digging in like a hook to hold the other imp in place. Henry gurgled, clutching at his throat, and a gold noose landed around his throat.

A moment after, a matching noose was around Charles' neck, and the two women dropped vessels. Balseraph and Impudite dragged the battered, Habbalite-trained imps into their celestial forms, and then winked out, drawing them back to Hades.

Shihon put the clean knife away, and pulled out a scrap to wipe the blood off the other.

"Alexander."

He looked up, at his keeper's use of his Role-name. Perhaps the demon didn't even know any other name for him. "Master?"

"Well played. Come to the carriage."

Shihon bowed. "Thank you, Master Robert."

But in his mind, he thought, _Pfft. It was cony-catching._


End file.
